Genius in the House
by hummerhouse
Summary: A trifecta of Don-centric drabbles. Mild TCest, OT4 implied, language. One shot.


Genius in the House

**Hard To Stay Mad**

"Are ya' trying ta say ya' saved _my_ ass, Donatello?" Raph blurted.

"That was a solid, four-inch thick metal door we were trapped behind, Raphael. You certainly weren't going to batter your way out," Don argued.

"Which one of us was holdin' off a small army while ya' was playing with that electronic door brainiac?" Raph asked.

"Which one of us slammed that door in their faces after we escaped, Raph?" Don countered, sloshing through ankle deep sewer water.

Raph could feel his temper starting to flare and made a determined effort to tamp it back down. He was tired, and walking into that trap in the first place had been his fault. They were safe now and he just wanted to forget the whole thing.

"Okay genius, let's just agree; you're better with the tech stuff and I'm a better fighter and then drop it," Raph said.

"Fine," Don huffed. Thinking about it for a minute, he added, "Seems like that makes it a tie."

"Whatever," Raph growled, continuing his fast pace through the sewer tunnel.

Several moments later he saw Don sidle up next to him, matching him step for step. Just as Raph was about to snap, he felt a calloused hand slide up his arm and caress his bicep.

Stopping quickly, he turned to stare at Don. Another olive green hand came up to stroke emerald skin, lightly tracing the outline of hard muscle.

"Maybe we should think up a tie breaker," Don murmured, finally lifting deep, chocolate brown eyes to capture a pair of golden ones.

Raph could feel a slow burn start to roll through his body, all thoughts of anger disappearing quickly. Don moved closer; now completely in Raph's personal space and the hot head's heart began to pound.

"Shell Donny," Raph husked, now thoroughly aroused, "if ya' wanna find out which of us is best at driving the other wild, I'll concede this one ta ya'. Ya' got me? This one is all yours."

Don chuckled softly and closed in to claim his prize.

**Teamwork**

"Again," Leo urged, pressing in on his brother. "One, two, strike!"

Leo slashed down at Donatello with his bokken. Don lifted his in a counter-move, catching Leo's weapon and pushing it off center. Leo twisted in again fluidly, thrusting into Don's plastron before the purple banded brother could react.

Don lowered his weapon in frustration. They had been practicing for almost two hours, and he still hadn't managed to hold his own against Leo for more than five minutes.

"Let's face it Leo," Don said as he took a deep breath, "I'm hopeless with a katana."

Leo shook his head. "I know the bo staff is your weapon of choice, Don. You are a master with that bo. But Master Splinter insists that we should be able to hold our own with any weapon. You need to focus."

"Some things can't be solved with more intense focus, Leonardo. Just because you have the ability to master nearly any weapon you get your hands on doesn't mean that the rest of us have that same gift. The last time I tried to work with a sai, I almost skewered Mikey," Don said.

Leo walked over and put a hand on Don's shoulder. "A lot of it is the mental place you need to go to when you fight Donny. You can learn to do anything if you put your mind to it."

Don lifted an eye ridge and asked, "Is that what you do?"

"Of course," Leo answered, a hint of complacency lacing his voice.

"Well then," Don said as a corner of his mouth lifted, "I'll have to remember that the next time I'm trying to teach you how to diffuse a time bomb."

Leo froze for a moment as a vision of himself leaping through the window of an abandoned warehouse just as it exploded flashed through his head.

Don was still staring at him with a knowing look on his face. Leo started to chuckle and then began to laugh.

When he could finally manage to speak Leo said, "You have a point bro'. I'll stick to my area of expertise and you stick to yours."

"Agreed," Don said, the twinkle in his dark eyes holding Leo's attention.

Leo stepped closer and quickly wrapped both arms around his younger brother.

"I'd say that makes us pretty much the perfect team, wouldn't you?" Leo whispered, nipping at Don's neck.

Two bokkens hit the floor simultaneously.

"I certainly would," Don whispered back just before Leo's mouth cut off further speech.

**The Winner Is . . .**

"Come on Donny, give. Give, give, give," Mikey pleaded, hovering over Don's chair.

"What makes you think I have it?" Don asked, pretending to be engrossed in a stack of paperwork.

Mikey's eyes widened. "Because you're Donatello," he answered, surprised at the question.

"And somehow that makes me automatically responsible for the broken game controller? I had nothing to do with that if you'll recall. That's all on you and Raph," Don told him.

"I know who broke it Donny," Mikey said, jumping over to the other side of Don's chair as his older brother tried to turn away from him. "But you _always_ fix it, so you gotta have it."

"That's some logic, Mikey," Don said as he scribbled on a piece of paper. He turned to look at Mikey, and tapped the younger turtle's beak with the pencil's eraser. "You are assuming that I took it upon myself to retrieve all the busted pieces from the floor and carry them into the lab. Why exactly would I make more work for myself without having anyone ask that I do them that favor?"

Mikey tilted his head and studied Don. "Is that why you're hiding it from me, 'cause I didn't ask you to fix it? Donny, please, please fix the game controller. I should have picked up all the parts and brought them to you myself. I throw my wretched body at your feet and beg for you to find it in your heart to fix my baby. I would have asked before, but like, Raph was about to seriously pound on me, so I had to run."

Don shook his head, his eyes returning to the papers on his desk. "You know how Raph hates to lose and you still razz him when he does. The game controller takes the punishment every time."

"Can't help myself Donny-boy. Raph looks so funny when his face turns nearly the same shade of red as his mask," Mikey said with a laugh. Then his eyes narrowed. "Hey, how did you know the pieces were scattered all over the floor unless you picked them up?"

Don sighed and put down his pencil. Rolling over to his filing cabinet, he pulled open the bottom drawer and extracted the repaired game controller.

Handing it to Mikey, he said, "Can you please try to make it last an entire week, Mikey? I do have a rather long list of other things that need to be worked on."

Mikey's satisfied grin widened when Don's warm hand touched his as the genius handed the younger turtle the controller. Just as Don started to turn his chair back towards the desk, Mikey reached out and caught the back, spinning it so Don was facing him.

Placing the controller on Don's cluttered desk top, Mikey moved forward and straddled Don's lap, settling on his olive green thighs.

Don's hands lifted to grip Mikey's hips lightly. "Uh, Mikey? I thought you wanted that controller so you could play a game."

"Oh, I wanna play all right. I just decided on a different game," Mikey said as his blue eyes locked onto a new target.

Don's shiver told Mikey that he was already racking up points.


End file.
